


Affairs of the Heart

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bloodplay, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Separate Childhoods, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hatred is an affair of the heart; contempt that of the head."~ Arthur Schopenhauer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affairs of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> Dracoqueen22 is writing a bigbang fic based off my prompt of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe being separated at birth. While cheerleading her on, I wrote this bit which she encouraged me to post so others can enjoy the smut.

                The door to the storage room crashed closed, the sound echoing in the small space. Thankfully, the room was in a less traveled corridor and few mechs traveled it this time of night. If anyone did happen to walk by, they’d probably take one listen to the familiar voices snarling and cursing behind the door and continue on their way. They’d probably be shaking their helms as they went.

                “Self-centered… egotistical…” Sideswipe muttered, shoving at Sunstreaker’s chassis and kicking him in a shin as soon as the other mech took a step back.

                Sunstreaker regained his footing and swept a fist towards the red mech’s helm. Sideswipe easily ducked and threw an elbow. Sunstreaker made a wordless bleep of righteous indignation; Sunstreaker’s faceplates were off limits. Sideswipe _knew_ that.

                “Fragger,” Sunstreaker growled, leaping forward with curled fingers. Sharp claws dug into Sideswipe’s side and shoulder, and his engine rumbled warningly.

                “Aww… poor sparkling worried about his pretty, pretty paint job?” Sideswipe taunted, struggling in Sunstreaker’s grip. His own claws raked down Sunstreaker’s chassis, and the yellow mech hissed.

                They grappled for a few moments, neither of them finding an upper hand until the shelf Sideswipe had been forced against creaked alarmingly. Moments later, the brackets holding the shelf disengaged from the wall, and it collapsed.

                Sideswipe yelped as something wet slid down his backplates, pooling on the floor. His feet struggled to find purchase in the slick liquid, and he slipped. Not prepared for Sideswipe to suddenly drop, Sunstreaker overbalanced and they toppled to the floor, still squirming and flailing.

                “Stop hitting me in the face, you useless aft!” Sunstreaker growled as another elbow just missed his helm fin.

                “Well, stop kicking me!” Sideswipe retorted, knocking his helm against Sunstreaker’s chin and chuckling darkly as Sunstreaker made another noise of fury deep in his vocalizer.

                “I’ll fragging kick you if I want to,” he said. “It’s all you’re good for anyway. Primus! You’re slagging heavy! Maybe you should lay off on the high grade, you degenerate addict!”

                “I have to taste test each batch!” Sideswipe shrieked. “I’m not fat!” He twisted in Sunstreaker’s grip, trying to get enough room to push himself to his knees. Sunstreaker followed, claws catching in a transformation seam and ripping up the edge of an armor plate.

                “Tubbo!” Sunstreaker taunted. “Slow, dim-witted…”

                “Glitched reject offspring of a toaster!” Sideswipe returned, rising up enough to fall back on top of Sunstreaker with a growl.

                One moment, Sideswipe was on top, clawing at Sunstreaker’s faceplates with intent to maim shining in his optics. The next, Sunstreaker managed to flip them, kneeing Sideswipe in his abdomen with a humorless laugh. Back and forth it went, until both of them were covered in cleaning fluid, sporting deep tears and buckled plating. They ventilations were hurried, their fans whining complaint at how overworked and clogged with fluid they were.

                In between the curses and the grunts, the growls and the insults, the click of interface panels opening was lost. By that point, they were impossibly entwined, straining to both push one another away and simultaneously drag the other closer to further rip and tear. It was almost too easy to slip into a more intent rhythm, the push and pull of the fight insidiously transitioning to a thrust of hips, a press of a pelvic array.

                Now they fought to find a better angle, spikes nudging and slipping against one another.

                “I hate you. I _hate_ you,” Sideswipe whimpered, thrusting up against the hard surface of Sunstreaker’s abdomen. The red mech bucked violently, and Sunstreaker slipped off to the side with a shout. Sideswipe immediately followed, rising to straddle Sunstreaker’s thigh. He grabbed for Sunstreaker’s spike, stroking it roughly with a steel grip as his other hand wrapped around his own length.

                “I hate you more! Look at you; you can’t even do that right!” Sunstreaker snarled, batting Sideswipe’s hand aside to grasp Sideswipe’s spike. Sunstreaker began pulling at the cord with short, vicious strokes.

                “Frag you,” Sideswipe moaned, the tips of his claws lightly scratching the underside of Sunstreaker’s spike on the up stroke.

                “Never,” Sunstreaker grunted, his free hand darting forward to land on Sideswipe’s hip. His fingers scrabbled to grip on Sideswipe’s slick plating until he finally just dug his claws in, prompting Sideswipe to lurch forward with a hiss.

                He planted a hand on Sunstreaker’s chest to support himself, claws flexing rhythmically. The tip of one scraped Sunstreaker’s central chest seam, prompting him to thrash wildly in protest against such an intimate touch.

                “Fragging hold still!” Sideswipe growled, his hand reaching out to cuff Sunstreaker across the side of the helm. Sunstreaker knocked his arm aside, and they ineffectually batted at one another.

                Their strokes became faster, rougher, their hips working to push their spikes into the other’s clenching fingers. As overload loomed, Sunstreaker managed to grab hold of Sideswipe’s forearm. Sunstreaker’s claws dug into Sideswipe’s wrist, energon spurting up from a punctured line.

                Sunstreaker yanked, pulling Sideswipe down the extra few inches so that Sunstreaker could place his lipplates over the wound and suck, glossa probing the puncture wounds’ edges.

                Sideswipe groaned, optic slitting nearly closed. The fingers of his trapped hand spasmed weakly.

                “Hate… you,” Sideswipe managed, precariously balancing above Sunstreaker. Their gazes were locked on each other’s faceplates, optics lit bright with lust and loathing.

                Sunstreaker growled a wordless reply, and Sideswipe shuddered violently. His spike jerked and then erupted in Sunstreaker’s hand. Thick spurts of transfluid flew from the tip, landing on Sunstreaker’s abdomen. Two strokes later, and Sunstreaker’s milky-colored release coated Sideswipe’s fingers, dripping down to mingle with Sideswipe’s fluids.

                Intakes panting, Sideswipe slumped, frame suddenly weak. Sunstreaker lay quiescent beneath him, both of them still for the first time since they burst into the room barely minutes before.

                “Let go,” Sideswipe demanded after a few moments, yanking his arm out of Sunstreaker’s lax grip. Sideswipe inspected the punctures, but energon had stopped flowing from the wound, self-repair already in the process of sealing the line.

                “Likewise,” Sunstreaker growled, pushing Sideswipe’s hand off his spike. They both winced as Sideswipe’s claws scraped across the too-sensitive surface.

                For an instant moment, their optics caught once more, reflecting pleasure, shame… hatred.

                Sideswipe was the first to move, shoving himself to his feet. He wobbled for a moment before his gyros reset.

                “Not so pretty now, are you?” he muttered nastily, whipping out a cloth from subspace and throwing it to Sunstreaker as the yellow mech sat upright. “Stay away from me.”

                “ _You_ stay away from _me_ ,” Sunstreaker retorted as Sideswipe opened the door and peered out.

                Sunstreaker’s only answer was a scorching glare tossed over a red shoulder. Sideswipe silently left, leaving the door wide open. Sunstreaker snarled, hurrying to his feet. He wiped off the transfluid streaks, and then subspaced the cloth.

                He briefly glanced around the storage room before shrugging. He moved to the doorway, and checked the hallway for any observers. Then he left, moving quickly in the opposite direction Sideswipe had taken.

 

~ End

 

               

 

 

               

               


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